


when the planes are flying over you'll hear all britain sing

by anticyclonerollingstone



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 15:52:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11694945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticyclonerollingstone/pseuds/anticyclonerollingstone
Summary: It's only fitting that he match those recruitment posters all the way from his hair to his heart.





	when the planes are flying over you'll hear all britain sing

**Author's Note:**

> ADMISSION TIME (FEB 2018): i really really do not like this because i wrote it so early on and before i had really started thinking things through (i only really published it because a friend basically said "do it u won't"). it doesn't really fit with much that i've established for the characters now but i'm leaving it up for the sake of sentimentality and all. maybe someday i'll go through and edit it to fit things the way i want it to. oh well.

     "Farrier?" 

       Sitting with his face turned up towards the warmth of the sun, Farrier opens his eyes and squints at the line of clouds threatening his sunlight. He turns away from the sun toward the voice, eyebrows furrowed in mild irritation.

      "Sorry," the voice says, its owner still not quite in full color as Farrier's eyes adjust from the sun. "I'm Collins. It sounds like we'll be flying together?"

      Gradually color returns to Farrier's vision and his eyebrows relax. Collins's blond hair is nearly as bright as the sun had been in Farrier's eyes just a moment ago. Looking like he was born for the RAF, his hair is combed right out of one of the recruitment posters in town, eyes a perfect blue to match a fresh uniform. He stares at Farrier expectantly, just like the boys in the posters so confident in their ability to persuade one into enlisting. 

     "No need to apologize," Farrier finally says, uncrossing his arms and offering out a hand. Collins takes it in a friendly handshake and his face relaxes, wrinkles disappearing from his forehead. "Forgot my manners. Farrier. But you knew that." 

     "Collins," Collins says again, grinning, releasing Farrier's hand, "I got pointed over here by uh..." he glances around and then admits, "I already forgot the name."

     "Not worth remembering anyway," Farrier says. Collins bites the corner of his mouth, bobs his head side to side, not wanting to agree with the grim truth of the statement. Farrier chuckles and moves over on the bench seat. "Did you want to sit?"  

     "I'm not interrupting?" Collins asks. Laughter teases his eyes. His cheeks are pink under his eyes, probably already sunburned just from the clear morning. 

     "No, no," Farrier waves a hand in the air and smiles. Collins sits down, props himself up with his elbows on the back of the bench. Farrier digs in his pocket for his cigarettes and holds them out in an offering.  

     "I'm all set. I don't smoke much," Collins says. His eyebrows shoot up in alarm as Farrier slides the box back into his pocket. "I don't mind if you do, though, of course." The words tumble out of his mouth, gracefully nervous.

     Farrier smiles before he can help it, and in relief Collins smiles again, and he looks a year younger every time he does. He radiates a warmth the way an engine's heat warps the world around it on a cool morning, a comfortable and familiar warmth at Farrier's side. Farrier wants to ask for his first name, his age, where he calls home. But it can wait, Farrier tells himself, it always comes out in good time if it's meant to be known. 

 

     "Did you enlist?" Collins asks. He immediately appears to regret the question.

     "Wanted to get to them before conscription got to me first," Farrier says. Collins nods in understanding. It's not entirely a lie on Farrier's part. He had known they were due for a war, and had resigned himself to enlisting on his own terms before the war finally began. He realized afterward that much of his resignation to the inevitability of war had been because he just needed something to do.

     "I just needed work. This was the best way to make myself useful," Collins says. Farrier looks down, smiles to himself at the innocence of this poster-perfect boy deciding to make the most of his life by risking it. It's only fitting that he match those recruitment posters all the way from his hair to his heart.

_Hell, he might have even crawled out of one._

     Farrier is suddenly embarrassed to admit that he only enlisted so he could have a say in the hows and whens of his service. When he looks up, Collins is looking away, seemingly just as embarrassed of his own reasons.  

     "That's fair," Farrier says, turning his face back toward the sun. "'There's a place for you in the RAF' and all."  

     Collins laughs and Farrier almost thanks him for it. He can feel Collins looking at him, sees his hair flash like the belly of a plane in the corner of his eye when he looks back to the sky.  

     "What I heard was more of a rumor than anything official, by the way. Just in case. Y'know how things get down through the ranks," Collins says. Farrier looks over at him again. "Though I'm sure we'll get the formal introduction soon enough."  

      _I certainly hope so._

     "No word on anyone else?" Farrier asks.

     "Not with us, no." 

     Farrier hums in acknowledgement. A lone Hurricane flies over their heads, coming in to land. They both turn their heads to watch it pass. Collins whistles under his breath at it, a reaction Farrier always feels in his heart at the sight of British planes in the sky, and is grateful to have Collins at his side to vocalize it.

     "Looks like the clouds are winning this one." Collins says, nodding toward the heavy line of clouds, dark with rain, starting to cast a shadow over the station. Farrier hadn't even noticed. "Sorry for robbing you of the last of the sun." 

     With the clouds moving over the sun, Collins's hair, aggressively blond, still shines golden. So long as Collins is there, Farrier thinks maybe he could go without the blue sky and the warmth of the sunlight for the rest of the war. 

     "You didn't."

**Author's Note:**

> i might come back to this.
> 
> if you wanna talk you can catch me at @thehubbins on twitter or @hubbins on tumblr


End file.
